


There Will Be Time

by eternaleponine



Series: From the Mouths of Babes [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, F/F, First Kiss, Foster Care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Puberty is hell for everyone, but it's especially troubling for Lexa when it comes with the realization that her feelings for her best friend are a bit more than friendly.  When Wells asks Clarke to the spring dance, Lexa tries to accept the fact that losing her is inevitable... but does it have to be?





	There Will Be Time

More disturbing than the changes that were happening to her own body were the ones that were happening to Clarke's, or more accurately, the feelings that Lexa had about those changes. She didn't know how to handle the fact that now when she looked at her best friend in a bathing suit, she felt her cheeks go red and hoped that Clarke would just think it was because of the sun. She didn't know what to do about the fact that when Clarke grabbed her hand or hugged her, she didn't want to let go. She was certainly not equipped to cope with the fact that the memory of that innocent mistletoe kiss years ago would flash into her mind at odd moments, sending a flood of tension through her that she didn't know how to release. 

_If you had any sense at all,_ Lexa told herself, _you would stay away from her._ Because what would happen if Clarke ever found out about the strange squirmy feelings it gave Lexa when they slept side by side? What would she do if she knew that when her breath tickled Lexa's ear as she whispered something to her, it also felt like it was tickling other parts of her, parts of her that she never let herself think about too much?

She knew all about sex. They hadn't hidden the facts of life from them in the community. She knew how babies were made, and how they came into the world. She knew that sex could be a weapon, and that men frequently used it as one against women. It was part of the reason the girls had always had to be just a little bit tougher than the boys; they had to make sure that when those boys started to think they were men they didn't get any ideas.

Ideas like boys were starting to get about Clarke, now that the straight lines of childhood had given way to the curves of a young woman... a term that made Lexa feel slightly panicky every time she heard it, because being a girl was one thing, but being a woman was another thing altogether. One that she wasn't ready for, and she didn't want Clarke to be ready for either.

Because being a woman meant, nine times out of ten, looking for a man. Maybe the statistic they'd been given in health class was old, but even if it was only seven or eight out of ten, those weren't good odds for Lexa. And once Clarke found a boyfriend, being her best friend would become secondary. That was just the way things worked. 

So if Lexa had any sense, she would walk away before she could be walked away from. But separating herself from Clarke was like separating herself from oxygen: impossible. If she tried, Clarke would want to know why... and maybe telling her the truth (but not the whole truth) would do the trick, but probably not. Clarke would say that it didn't matter, that she didn't care about that kind of thing. That love was love and, "I love you no matter what."

She would mean it, too. Just not in the way Lexa wanted her to mean it. And Lexa would smile and pretend to be grateful and act like everything was normal and her heart wasn't shattering into a million tiny jagged pieces and she wasn't slowly bleeding out.

She was good at it. She'd been doing it for years.

* * *

Lexa picked up her phone – a gift from Miss Becca when she'd started high school – with shaking hands and tapped out a message to her foster sister (who she still thought of as her sister, even though she'd moved out at the end of the summer, which probably had a lot to do with why Lexa had been given the phone in the first place). 

**Lexa:** I think I'm gay.

It took only a second to get a response: a string of crying laughing emojis, and then: 

**Anya:** You THINK?! 

Lexa scowled, gripping her phone harder as she started to respond, but Anya beat her to the punch. 

**Anya:** Sorry, kiddo. That wasn't nice. I should have said I love you and thank you for trusting me enough to share that with me and I support you and all that, because I do. But also... no shit, Sherlock. You've been in love with Clarke since you met her, practically. 

Lexa swallowed, pulling her shoulders in and hunching over her phone. If Anya already knew... if she could tell... could other people? Was this somehow a secret that she was the last to know about even though she was the one living it? 

And anyway, it wasn't true. She loved Clarke, sure, and all these stupid hormones made her _want_ Clarke in ways that she could never have her, but that wasn't the same as being _in love_. That was the stuff of fairy tales, and she was neither a princess nor a prince, so it was a ridiculous concept that absolutely did not apply to this situation, and to hell with Anya for even suggesting it. 

She chucked her phone away from her and watched it land harmlessly on what used to be Anya's bed. She yanked the book she was supposed to be reading for English out of her backpack and flipped open to where she'd left off, but it was impossible to concentrate with her phone buzzing insistently at her from across the room.

Lexa finally got up and grabbed it, determined to tell Anya where she could shove love.

 **Anya:** Anything in particular bring this revelation on?

 **Anya:** Lexa?

 **Anya:** Are you ignoring me?

 **Anya:** Look, I'm sorry I was shitty before. I shouldn't have laughed. It's not funny. 

**Anya:** Am I the first person you told? 

**Anya:** Lexa, please just respond. You can tell me you hate me and I'm the worst sister in the world. Just... say something please.

 **Lexa:** I am NOT in love with Clarke.

 **Anya:** Okay. We'll go with that. So what's going on?

Lexa swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffed back tears like she'd been doing since the bus ride home that afternoon when Clarke had swung into the seat next to her, close enough that their hips touched, and announced that they needed to go shopping for dresses.

 **Lexa:** Wells asked Clarke to the stupid spring dance.

 **Anya:** Okay...

 **Lexa:** She said yes.

* * *

"I'm not going," Lexa told her when Clarke explained what they needed dresses for. 

"Please?" Clarke asked. "Come on! It'll be fun!"

"No," Lexa said flatly. "It won't."

"You say that every time," Clarke insisted, "and then you end up having a good time anyway. Please, Lexa?" She opened her eyes as wide as they could go and stuck out her lower lip. She probably thought it was cute. (She wasn't entirely wrong.) 

"No," Lexa said. "I'm not going on your date with you." 

Clarke laughed. "It's not a date. We're just going as friends."

Lexa stared at her. Was she for real? Did she actually think that boys asked girls to dances (or anywhere) as 'just friends'? Sure, Clarke had known Wells forever, but that didn't mean anything. Not anymore. "Did he say that?" she asked.

"No," Clarke admitted, "but he didn't say it was a date, either. Come on, Lexa. It won't be the same without you." 

Lexa might have given in, because if she was there then it definitely wouldn't be a date, right? Her resolve might have crumbled, but then Clarke grabbed her hand and pulled it to her chest, pressing it over her heart, and it wasn't the first time she'd done it – it was what she did when she really, really wanted Lexa to do something and she was being stubborn about it, like somehow she would be able to make Lexa absorb her heart's desire through her palm and it would become her own. 

Not this time. This time she pulled her hand away like she'd been burned, because it felt like she had been. She shoved her hands between her thighs where Clarke didn't dare reach for them and turned away. "I said no."

Clarke stared at her through their reflections in the bus window for a long moment, and then got up and found another seat. When they reached their stop, she didn't even say goodbye, just crossed the street like she couldn't get away from Lexa fast enough.

* * *

**Lexa:** She says it's not a date.

 **Lexa:** She wanted me to go with her. 

**Lexa:** I said no. 

**Lexa:** It was going to happen eventually. 

**Lexa:** And Wells is okay, I guess. 

**Lexa:** I don't even care. I don't know why I'm telling you this.

 **Lexa:** Never mind. Forget I said anything.

 **Anya:** You want to come over? I've got ice cream and there's a Harry Potter movie marathon on.

Lexa wiped at her eyes as the screen went blurry, nodding until she realized that Anya couldn't see that. So she sent the praying hands emoji. 

**Anya:** Be there in ten.

* * *

When Anya dropped her off the next day, Clarke was sitting on the porch waiting for her. "You didn't answer your phone last night," she said. It wasn't an accusation. If anything, she sounded sad. "I tried to call."

"I forgot it," Lexa said. _On purpose,_ she didn't say, even though it had been. 

"I'm sorry I tried to make you do something you didn't want to," Clarke said. She opened the Tupperware that sat next to her, offering Lexa a homemade cookie – raspberry and white chocolate chip, it looked like – as a peace offering.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Lexa answered, taking it.

And just like that, things were back to normal... or what passed for normal these days. Lexa was on edge, wondering if Clarke knew and just didn't want to say anything because it might make things weird, and her skin prickled every time Clarke came close. Laying in bed beside her was her own personal hell, and she considered faking sick and going home, but Clarke would insist that her mom check her, and she wouldn't be able to fool Dr. Abby, so she just soldiered through.

She woke up in the morning more tired than she'd gone to bed.

* * *

The day of the dance arrived before Lexa was ready (because she would never be ready for Clarke's first date, no matter how many times she told herself that it was inevitable, and denying it was just prolonging the pain like when you tried to peel off a Band-Aid slowly thinking it would hurt less), and she very nearly said no when Clarke insisted that she come over to help her get ready. 

"You could still come," Clarke said. "You have that dress you wore last year to that Women in Math and Science thing that probably still fits, or maybe you could borrow something of mine. You can still buy a ticket at the door. I'll even pay for it." 

Clarke had barely stopped talking since Lexa's arrival, and it was only making Lexa's headache worse. It had been building since lunchtime, when Wells had stopped by their table and smiled at Clarke and told her how much he was looking forward to tonight, and now every word was like a spike to her brain. 

Lexa shook her head, which only made it pound harder. "Clarke..."

"Okay, I know, I'm sorry. I just... I guess I'm nervous. Even though it's not a date." She finally looked at Lexa, and her forehead creased into a frown. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Lexa said. "Just a headache. Probably dehydrated or something."

"I'll get you water," Clarke said, dashing out of the room with one shoe on, which under normal circumstances probably would have made Lexa laugh, or at least smile, because it had enough of a heel to make Clarke really lopsided. She came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and her dad. "He's no my mom, but..." She shrugged. 

Mr. Jake smiled at her. "Where does it hurt?" he asked. 

Lexa shrugged. "It's fine."

"I'll be right back," Clarke said, clomping off again. 

"I can't help if you don't tell me," Mr. Jake said. "Does it hurt around your eyes, like in your face, or...?"

"It just feels like my head is being squeezed," Lexa said. "But it's not that bad. I'm okay."

"Here," Clarke said, coming back with a bottle of pills and two cookies. "Take two of these and call me in the morning."

Mr. Jake laughed. "How do you even know about that commercial? It was from way before you were born." 

Clarke grinned. "The internet never forgets." 

"Right." He took the bottle of pills and shook two of them out, putting them in Lexa's hand. "It's just Tylenol," he said. 

She swallowed them because it was easier than arguing, then took the cookies that Clarke offered and bit into one, because Wells had also killed her appetite at lunch and she'd only picked at her dinner. She still wasn't particularly hungry but knew she should eat anyway. 

"Maybe I shouldn't go," Clarke said. "If you're—"

"Go," Lexa said. _Ripping off the Band-Aid._ "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" Clarke asked. Lexa nodded. Clarke sighed. "Okay. But... you could just stay here? So the kids don't make it worse?" She glanced at her dad. "That's okay, right? If she stays even if I'm not here? It's only a couple of hours."

"It's fine with me if it's fine with Miss Becca," Mr. Jake said. 

Lexa wasn't sure that she wanted to be here when Clarke got back. She wasn't sure she was ready to hear about what a good time Clarke had without her... and with Wells. But she texted her foster mother anyway, and got a text back a few seconds later that just said 'OK' which meant she was in the middle of a crisis and trusted that Lexa wasn't trying to pull a fast one on her. 

Clarke finished getting ready and turned to pose for Lexa. "Well?" 

"You look beautiful," Lexa said. _You always look beautiful._

"You're biased," Clarke said, laughing. 

_Hopelessly,_ Lexa thought, and wondered again if Clarke knew more than she was letting on, if this was somehow her way of telling Lexa that she knew about her feelings and she was flattered but she just didn't see Lexa that way and...

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Clarke asked, her smile fading. "You would tell me if you weren't, wouldn't you?" 

"I'm fine," Lexa said, the word having lost all meaning with the number of times she'd repeated it. "Go. I'll be here when you get back. You can tell me all the gossip."

Clarke snorted. "Right." She leaned down and wrapped her arms around Lexa and pressed a kiss to her cheek that left a sticky smudge of lip gloss. "I'll be back before you know it." 

Lexa just nodded, unable to force words past the lump in her throat as Clarke turned and walked away. It was only after she'd gotten up and shut the door that Lexa reached up to touch her cheek, rubbing her finger over the place Clarke's lips had just been and then touching it to her tongue. 

It tasted like cherry.

* * *

Lexa was already in bed when Clarke got home, watching reruns of some cop show on TV because watching other people suffer was easier to deal with than her own emotions. She muted it when Clarke came in, but turned the volume back on and forced herself not to look away from the screen as Clarke changed into pajamas. When she was done, Clarke switched off the lights and crawled into bed next to Lexa. She grabbed one of the pillows and hugged it to her chest, and Lexa could feel her holding back whatever she wanted to say, so she turned off the TV and rolled on her side to face her. 

"So?" she asked. 

"He kissed me," Clarke said. 

The words sent Lexa's heart plummeting, and it took her a second to realize how flat the words were. Not giddy like one was supposed to be after one's first kiss (she _assumed_ it was Clarke's first kiss... she would have told her if it wasn't, wouldn't she?) if books and TV and movies were to be believed. Shouldn't she be jumping up and down and squealing or something?

"Oh," Lexa said. "That's... how was it?"

Clarke shrugged. "Not like the books would have you believe," she said, as if she'd read Lexa's mind. "It was... nice, I guess?" She shrugged again, but the dim glow of light from outside was enough for Lexa to see the corner of her mouth curl up in a smirk. "Okay, it was like the first kiss in _one_ book," she said. "It was definitely wet." 

Lexa knew she was supposed to laugh, or at least smile, but she couldn't make her face shift into the right shape. "Maybe it will get better," she said. 

"Maybe," Clarke said, but she didn't sound sure. She uncurled from around the pillow and tucked it behind her, scooting closer to Lexa. "Have you ever kissed anyone?" she asked. 

Lexa's heart slammed back up into her ribcage, but she managed not to grimace, mostly. She just rolled her eyes. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Clarke asked. 

"Don't you think that you would know if I had?" Lexa said. "It's not like—"

"Don't you dare," Clarke said. "Don't you dare say that no one would want to kiss you. You're awesome, and anyone who can't see that is an idiot. I'm sure there are plenty of guys who—"

"Maybe that's not what I want," Lexa blurted before she could stop herself or think about the consequences. She couldn't sit – lay – here next to Clarke and talk about the boys that might or might not want to kiss her. She just couldn't. 

Clarke was silent for a moment, then asked, more quietly, "What do you want then?"

Lexa shook her head. She couldn't do this, either. She couldn't risk losing Clarke, her best friend, her anchor. She couldn't throw that away for the tiniest fraction of a chance that somehow, maybe... "Do you really want to know?" she asked. 

"Of course I do!" Clarke said. "Why wouldn't I want to know?"

"Because," Lexa said, sliding her hand across the interminable few inches between them to find Clarke's, her fingers ghosting up her arm and over her shoulder, and Clarke's eyes were wide, confused, but she was leaning in, "what I really want..." Lexa was sure she wasn't imagining that Clarke was leaning in as her hand reached the side of her neck, "... this this." She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to Clarke's.

For a fraction of a second, she was sure she'd made a mistake. The worst mistake she could ever make. She was sure she'd ruined everything. Then Clarke's lips parted against hers, and they were kissing. She was kissing Clarke, and Clarke was kissing her back, and her lips still tasted of cherry and Lexa new it because the tip of her tongue brushed against them and it was too much and not enough, and...

Clarke pulled away, leaving Lexa to blink her way dazedly back to reality. 

"Oh," Clarke said softly, and Lexa's heart trembled, the pieces that had found their way back together already threatening to reduce themselves to dust if Clarke rejected her now. Her lungs ached with the air trapped inside unable to move it one way or another until Clarke said something. _Anything._ "Oh," she said again. " _That's_ what the books are talking about." 

Lexa's first kiss became her second, and then her third, and then more than she could count, and in between they whispered the things they hadn't been saying for weeks and months and years, the things that they hadn't known how to say to each other or even, sometimes to themselves, but there were no more secrets anymore, no more half-truths, nothing held back.

"I'm in love with you," Lexa whispered against Clarke's lips. "I have been for so long."

"My heart has always been yours," Clarke whispered back. 

And when Clarke pressed her lips to the back of Lexa's neck as she curled around her to sleep, their fingers knotted together almost too tight, and added, "And it always will be," Lexa believed her.


End file.
